A Morning Visitor
by Sublimification
Summary: “Ah know yah’re there, Swamp Rat. Ya might as well come outta the bushes so ah can get a better shot at knockin’ ya all the way tah next Tuesday.” ROMY, Oneshot


Dawn had barely broken; the air was still saturated with dew and the chill of night, but Rogue was awake and alert, fingers curled around a hot mug of black tea. Her eyes scanned the pages of the open book in front of her, laid on the wrought iron table hidden in a secret pocket of the institute grounds.

She reached for the top right corner of the page, rolling the paper between her gloved fingers before she tugged it over to reveal the next chapter. She paused for a second before slamming the book shut and tossing it onto the table. It skidded a few inches, stopping just shy of the precipice that would have seen it land into a patch of dirt.

Rogue smirked, not even bothering to turn around as she called, "Ah know yah're there, Swamp Rat. Ya might as well come outta the bushes so ah can get a better shot at knockin' ya all the way tah next Tuesday."

The corners of his mouth turned up in a grin; she was better at this than he had thought. He eased himself out of his crouch, stretching out before he emerged from the greenery.

"How did y' know 't was _moi_?" he asked, straightening the lopsided collar of his trench coat. She rolled her eyes, wrapping her hands around her mug and lifting it to her lips.

"Well," she told him between sips, "Ya don't giggle enough tah be Kitty. Bobby makes a lot more noise and Kurt carries around the stench of sulfur. I knew it was ya because ya always smell like those wretched cigarettes ya smoke." _That, and of spice that ah haven't tasted in years. _She added wistfully, and it wasn't quite an afterthought—more like something she would often think about when Kitty had long since fallen asleep and she was left awake and alone in the dark.

He chuckled and took the liberty of pulling a chair out for himself. He sat down and snatched up the book, not paying attention to the title or the author, only to its weight as he turned it over in his hands.

"I couldn'ta been de wolf-homme?" he questioned. Rogue bit back a grin and shook her head.

"Nah." Cigars smell different, and besides, Logan ain't got a reason tah hide."

Remy cocked one eyebrow. "What's m' reason fo' hiding?"

Rogue sighed, putting down her tea. "It's 'cause yah're a relentless perv of a stalker."

He laughed at that. "C'mon, _chèrie, _is 't really such a crime t' want t' look at a pretty woman?"

She shrugged. "Ah ain't callin' it a crime. Ah'm just sayin' that it's pretty damned stalkerish."

He ignored her statement and flipped the book over one last time.

"Is 't a good read?" He asked. She leant forward, propping herself up with her elbows in an indifferent manner.

"Sure, if ya like reading textbooks in ya spare tahme." He winced and took a glance at the cover: _Intermediate Chemistry._

"If it's got y' readin' it so intently, 'm gonna have t' check it out." He remarked, tossing the tome at her. She caught it neatly, dumping it back on the table.

"If yah're so interested, ah have a final tah study for, so ya better have a good reason for interruptin' meh with your stalkin'."

He broke into a smile. "Is stalkin' really de right word?"

Rogue sighed, and then amended her words. "Fahne, interruptin' meh with ya _invasions of privacy!_"

He frowned. "'m not allowed t' just sit here?"

"And watch meh _read_?"

He grinned. "And sip y' tea, of course."

Her eyes narrowed suspiciously, and she made a mental note not to even touch the mug again, just to annoy him. Instead, she picked up the book, flicking to the right page and settling herself into her chair. "Ah don't understand why yah'd want to."

"Maybe it's de company…" he mused. She looked up.

"What, ya don't have enough company back in Louisiana?" She said sarcastically. Remy looked away.

"If I was actually back in Louisiana, it might not be a problem." He stated. "But 'm here f'r now."

"And y' get _lonely?_ Can yah tell that ah feel incredibly sorry for ya?"

"_Mais oui._" He replied smoothly. She snorted, going back to her reading.

He watched her for a few moments, and then dug in his pockets for a pack of cards, which he began to shuffle absently. Rogue glared at him. "Do yah mind?"

He didn't stop. "'m bored."

"Ah didn't ask yah to stay." She pointed out.

"'m still here." He countered. She let out a frustrated, strangled sound.

"Go blow somethin' up!" She snapped.

"Go absorb someone!" He shot back, stopping his shuffling. She scowled.

"Ya can't say that. It ain't the same—ya actually _like _blowin' things up." He started moving the cards again.

"Every power has disadvantages, _chèrie._" He murmured. "Did y' t'ink dat I only ever charged a few cards?"

She stayed silent, but somehow her silence demanded an explanation. He shoved the cards into his pocket, meeting her gaze.

"First it was m' own clothes. Den other people's. Pretty soon, I got the hang o' ceilings and floors. Dey said some storm or anot'er caused some gas leaks."

She swallowed, setting the book down altogether. "Ah'm sorry." He didn't seem to notice her apology.

"Jus' remember that y' ain't de only one who has a problem wit' touch." He told her, looking down at his hands.

"But yah can control it." She whispered. "They don't think ah'll ever get that."

He glanced at her again, and smiled. It could have been the only genuine smile he had ever given her—she wouldn't have known. "Y' will, _chèrie_. De moment y' stop tryin' for it is the moment when y' make what dey say true."

The distant chime of an alarm clock broke the silence, and Rogue grabbed her book and her mug, standing up hastily.

"Ah've got tah go tah school…"

Remy grinned. "And I've got t' go steal somet'in," he teased. Rogue groaned, turning to walk back to the mansion.

"Funny, funny…" She called over her shoulder.

He ducked his head in acknowledgement as she disappeared through the trees. "_Oui_, I t'ought it was…"


End file.
